


Letters for the Fire

by Colerate



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Fire Metaphor, Fluff, M/M, One Kiss, Pen Pals, Post-Canon, Secret Santa, breif description of scars, but alphonse is the real influence here, fullmetal alchemist secret santa 2019, just ignore the bit where Ed and Win get together, low key parental roy mustang, mei chang/alphonse elric (mentioned), that doesn't happen here, that is surprisingly unrelated to mustang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22151857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colerate/pseuds/Colerate
Summary: Ed looks back and has a hard time figuring out how and when he and Ling came to be.
Relationships: Edward Elric/Ling Yao
Comments: 10
Kudos: 116





	Letters for the Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Ed has alchemy. Shhhhhhh.
> 
> This actually came to me while listening to the song Let You Know by Flume. It's very unromantic. I think Rushing Back by Flume suits it more. I'm glad it inspired me anyhow because I was a little stuck when the secret santa came through. 
> 
> Thank you to the wonderful people at [Fullmetal Alchemist Secret Santa 2019](https://fmasecretsanta2019.tumblr.com/) for making this happen and keeping this fandom alive!

He was an emperor while he was but a dog of the neighbouring military. They couldn't be. Except, they totally could, in bits and pieces, threads and strings that pulled together to form a tapestry that filled in the blank spots in-between with licks of silk. The metaphor went on, with the beginning saturated in ruby reds and an end destined to never be sewn, but Ed forgot the rest. Which was not his fault in the slightest, Ling should know by now that he didn't have the patience for flowery words and nonsense poetry but wax it he did with a mischevious smile because of course he knew and of course he carried on anyway just to spite Ed. 

So, saturated reds, he could remember that part. How could he not? When it had all began, there had been nothing but red. Blood not ruby. There was a debate in there, that it hadn't truly all started amidst the gory insides of Gluttony's stomach since they'd met before then and didn't most of these stories begin with a sappy little meet-cute? Romance wasn't really his genre, so Ed could admit he wasn't exactly an authority on the subject but it seemed like that was how things were done from what he'd learnt in passing. Al had always been a sap at heart and he'd bled the genre dry in the coming months before he and Mei finally started dating, as though they were textbooks and the whole 'asking out' process was a test. 

Which it sort of was, what with the two options of 'reject' or 'accept'. Pass or fail. Although Winry protested otherwise, said that sometimes things 'just happen' and, well, Ed would be a hypocrite to disagree. 

But the red, saturated or whatever. His and Ling's 'meet-cute' didn't quite hold that rosy romantic hue when he looked back on his memories. Quite the opposite really. If Ed could somehow produce an array that allowed him to travel through time, he'd like to return to the moment just after they had met and reveal to little fifteen-year-old Ed how that freeloading bastard of a prince was going to become so much more to both the world and to him, just to see the look on his face. And then he'd go back to when he was eleven years old, circumvent a whole boatload of tragedies, smash Father's face in with two flesh fists and call it a done day. 

Huh. That would be pretty awesome, actually. 

But he'd need to learn how to travel through space with alchemy before he even considered time. Lotta work needed there. 

But yes, red, Truth, he could not keep his attention focused on something so singular as his own linear passage through time, nevermind non-linear. It always seemed to happen, his mind would hop from tangent to tangent outside of his study. Even then, his studying was sprawling and his knowledge so in-depth and varied because he soaked in one topic and then couldn't help himself from pursuing all the related strands. It was how he'd gone from dissecting Mustang's flame alchemy to oxidisation to applying alchemy to underwater swimming to making a bet with Ling that he could outlast him underwater which of course Ling won because philosopher's stone, duh, dirty cheat, and-

RED. They may have had the most unromantic meet-cute in the entire history of the romance genre but something had sparked that night that they'd bonded over the boiled remains of Edward's boot, athletes foot comments aside. Actually, now that he thought about it, that hadn't been very romantic either. A bit gross really. And what was the spark? There had to have been a spark, there was always a spark, an ignition, a catalyst. Ling had said that it had burst aflame that night but Ling had a penchant for exaggeration and the only thing memorable that night was the texture of leather on his tongue and the potent odour of decay. 

Yeah, no, not romantic at all. Red? Yes. For all the wrong reasons. 

So, when was the spark? The weeks that preluded the promised day were a mess of smears and blurs with little moments of clarity peaking in-between. Tiny clear patches like "520 cenz" and "When you notice an insect on the ground, do you stop to consider it a fool?". Everything else that fell in between did just that, fell. Fell away. 

Surely not when Greed had been around? When the homunculus was stuck in a two-person mix inside of a single body? Edward could admit that Greed had been... quite something. That, in that dingy little underground bar, he'd seen something and he'd thought it was _good_. Back when he didn't know what those sorts of feelings were beyond chemicals sending signals in his brain, arbitrary and clinical. It was a bit funny, how he'd thought he knew it all, how he thought concepts like love could be boiled down to a science. Oh Truth, he didn't want to think on it now. Life's forbidden knowledge: human transmutation and however the hell love actually works. Eugh. 

But yeah... Greed had been something, for sure. But whatever feelings he'd had pinging off the walls of his skull when he was fifteen were different from what he had now. Perhaps they were the same but evolved, morphed into something unexplainable. Which he didn't even _try_ to explain because it was both impossible to do so and he really didn't want to risk ruining it with understanding. Like magic shows. Once you understand how the magician is accomplishing their feats, the wonder gets taken away. If the wonder ever got taken away from... whatever was going on now, Ed didn't know what he'd do. Not to be a sap but he liked things how they were. Liked it a lot. Loved it.

After the promised day but not the next day, or even the day after, somewhere further along but before the bulk of recovery came to an end. That's where Ed would point on a line and mark the spark with an X. But it wasn't a flash and done deal, it was more like kindling. Like a fire – ignited the traditional way, not the fancy guess-who's-here-it's-the-bastard-yup-who-else way – it took a special set of circumstances and a couple of tries to get it going and then near-constant attention to _keep_ it going. 

There had been a letter that smoothed the ground and prepped it for the flames. Ling had been far away, becoming emperor and whatever. An utterly boring lengthy process, according to the said letter, with luxuries littered in-between. Ed could have guessed the latter from the feel of the heavy parchment between his fingers when he had collected the mail that morning. Then the decorated seal and the way the paper all but flowed from the opening in folds as he walked back inside of the Rockbell's home and tossed the rest of the mail onto the kitchen table without much thought. Pinako hadn't been happy with that, he remembered.

And then there was tinder, suitingly represented by paper letters. There was a wait in between each correspondence that vastly outlasted any mail he sent to anyone else. For example, his letter to Mustang demanding that the state begin plans for a railroad between Amestris and Xing received a response only two days later: _I know you have a short attention span but please do be patient, the board meetings are in progress and it will come along soon enough._

Edward had followed that up with another letter that featured a significant increase in the usage of vulgar language. Presumably, the bastard had received it in due time. 

Meanwhile, letters between Edward and Ling back then had taken a week at minimum to deliver, not accounting for the time they took to compose. Between Ling's duties as Emperor and Edward's temporary respite from the military coming to an end, their conversations spanned weeks and their letters grew to become stacks. 

When Ed counted one of his responses at twenty-seven freaking pages and he could use Ling's weighty packages for light exercise, he decided he'd had enough. Coincidentally, as did Ling, the letters that had followed were nigh identical.

"Come to Xing~" "Come to Amestris."

Emphasis on the 'nigh'. 

Could the ensuing argument be considered the kindling? No, it was more like Tinder Part Two, Letters Again But With More Ink Splashes. He discovered a few things during those months: one, Ling actually had pretty messy handwriting when he stopped giving a damn about being so emperor-y, and two, it was very hard to maintain the heat in an argument when you could only shout (through very bold lettering) at the other person once or twice a month. Al thought it was all stupid and had been very vocal about that in his own very agreeable and very Al way which Ed had no choice but to translate onto paper and send to Ling once he himself also realised how very 'stupid' they were both being. Al's words, not his. 

In the end, they met halfway, also an idea of Al's, and perhaps that could be considered the kindling.  
It was like meeting each other for the first time all over again only the setting had been swapped out for the ruins of Xerxes. Only then, when the sun hit Ling's hair and glanced off his gold pieces did Ed realise, truly realise, that this was a whole real person. And, damn, he'd never really been one for the sort of jewellery the rich were fond of – they lacked class and a good amount of gothic detail – but it was different on Ling. 

Meanwhile, Ed had been wrapped nearly head to toe in a white cloth that was drenched to fend off the sun because he kept drawing what little water there was in the air and permeating the fabric with it. He had looked like a sad sodden ghost. 

Screw Ling and screw his Philosopher's stone also. 

But that wasn't the point. Ling had always looked older for his age, had always seemed like he'd grown into himself and was just, dare he say, beautiful. And then, with a year and a half or so of back and fourth pen palling across borders, he'd grown into his looks even more than Edward had thought was possible. He truly had seen Ling at fifteen and thought 'that's that then' and then he was seventeen and... yeah. 

Oh lord, he'd really thought 'that's that then' then as well. Only to be proven wrong as they grew older, each time looking through the photographs and seeing how they changed. Funny how he never noticed it in the moment, but then the pictures made it all too clear that they weren't the same as they used to be. Really highlighted how time just... slips on by. 

Still not the point. The point was that Ed's brain hadn't quite connected the swooping (and sometimes coiled up and messy) handwriting with the living and breathing person. He knew _so much_ about him, had been there along his journey, from becoming Emperor to running the Empire, in everything except body. He knew his favourite foods (surprisingly, the answer to that question hadn't been everything but, unsurprisingly, the list had been very long), which servants he favoured and rewarded, which clans were proving tricky to deal with, which clans weren't, how he liked to spend his few free hours, how Lan Fan had fared over the months, what colour the sunset turned the turrets of the palace... it was a lot. And then there was Ling, standing and breathing and everything. 

And they had sat and talked, after Ling had taken a couple of digs at Ed's methods of surviving the heat (metal leg! He was at a disadvantage to begin with!) and Ed rebutted with how not everyone had the powers of a Philosopher's Stone at their disposal, _you cheat_ , and then Ling had offered the use of it which, _no, Truth no, but thanks, I guess._ But they had just sat and talked and it was like the letters except vocal and with no delay and kind of amazing, really. Wow. He would never grow sick of that voice, he remembered thinking, and it still held true to this day. 

All good things have to come to an end, a pessimistic realist had said somewhere once, and Ed, another pessimistic realist, had to agree. The sun sank low, the night time chill started to set in and revealed Xerxes for the morbid reminder that it was in crooked shadows and half-there moonlight. As much as he had wanted to, he couldn't sit and talk with Ling for all of eternity. 

_Come home with me. I can't. Sure you can. No, Al will worry. Just send a letter. Takes too long. I'll send someone, twice as fast. I can't._

_I see._

And the most bizarre, at the time, thing happened. Edward had been shaking off his stupid ghost wrap now that the night air allowed him to and shivered which must have been some kind of prompt or cue for Ling because he'd hugged him. Said goodbye, we'll have to do this again, into his neck, before pulling back and fleeing into the dark. Even if the thought had crossed his mind to, Ed wouldn't have been able to chase after him, shocked as he was with the cloth still hanging from his hips and his t-shirt damp. Ling had probably counted on that. Chicken.

So that was kindling, for sure. Because Ed had gone through a great many realisations in the following few days and Al had made sure to take revenge for all of the harassing he'd endured from Edward before he and Mei had sealed the deal. To Al, it was obvious that this was a mutual something or other. To Edward, well, he wasn't entirely certain what the something or other had been, nevermind if it was something he and Ling shared. 

One night, a Saturday if he could recall, he'd cleaned the dust off the slim full-length mirror in his room and looked at himself. Allowed his eyes to wander and then scrutinize his features. Despite the ugly feeling it stirred within him, he had stared at the messy scar across his stomach, the wreckage the ports in his arm had left behind, the conjunction between leg and metal, the faint line half-way across his forehead and all of the flaws that lay in-between. "He wouldn't want this," he'd whispered aloud, thinking of Ling, the handsome emperor who had pranced around with his torso out in his youth and seemingly held no shame for any part of himself while Ed wore layers of black topped with a thick red coat. 

Perhaps, someone else would. Someone else as fucked up as him, messed up in all the right and wrong ways. But not Ling, he was too perfect. 

Al had nearly broken Ed's neck with his cane when he had aired those thoughts. And there was nothing like a bit of a beating to draw Ed out of his miseries, it was how he'd been raised.

Thus the next letter had been pretty blunt and Mei, since she was travelling back for a short trip to Xing with Al, had taken it for him. When Al tried to force him to come, Ed had promptly jumped on a train to Central to get as far as away as he could in as small a time frame as possible. 

Karma had paid its dues though, in all fairness. Mustang had leapt on him as soon as he'd gotten eyes on Ed and had sat him down to write a report because, even though he was a contractor now, he still needed to do those semi-regularly. For reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with Ed, at all, the very official-looking warnings he'd been sent from the office previously just hadn't reached him. He'd never even seen them, promise, Mustang. 

He probably shouldn't have turned up at the Bastard's front door. The outcome should have been expected, if anything, but he'd forgotten to pack literally anything and only happened to have enough change to spare for a one-way train ticket so there would be no hotels for him. Alas, love makes people stupid as shit.

Somehow, Mustang had gotten the story out of him. Well, there wasn't really any 'some' or 'how' about it, the Bastard had threatened to kick him out and let him turn to the streets for the night if he didn't explain why the hell he'd shown up out the blue with nothing but the clothes on his back. For a while there, he'd seemed afraid that something terrible had happened but ended up laughing way more than necessary when he learned the true inspiration of Ed's spontaneous train ride.

"I don't want your dating advice," Ed had said once Mustang had set the fireplace alight with his fancy gloves and set about brewing some tea. Ed had taken up the side of the couch that was closest to the flames. " _If_ I go through with this, I'd want it to last more than a couple of days."

" _Low_ blow, Elric," Mustang had responded and all Ed could do was huff indignantly before Mustang cut him off, placing two cups of steaming tea onto the coasters on the coffee table. "I don't intend to relay any advice to you," he said and sat on the armchair at the other end of the fireplace. "I have something more practical in mind."

"What do you mean by that?" Ed picked up the teacup with both hands and held it close. The hearty fire, warm tea and comfy couch made for a very cosy set up. 

"Do you know any Xingese?" Mustang reached for his own cup and set it aside on the mantle. To retain the heat, if Ed had to guess. 

"Bits and pieces."

"Well, that's as good a start as any."

On the condition that Ed could learn enough Xingese to confidently get around, Mustang proposed that he accompany a small military convoy to the palace on behalf of Amestris to establish friendly ties. Sure, the Emperor had been heavily involved in the promised day and had hung around just long enough afterwards to insinuate that some sort of alliance was in order, but he'd been a prince in title at the time and the promises had been vague. 

So Ed had learnt Xingese, kept his plans entirely secret from Ling (he hadn't gotten a response back yet anyway, which may have been partly due to the fact that he wasn't at his postal address, but he learnt later that that hadn't made any difference as no letter had been received yet over there either) and learnt enough Xingese to travel and then some. 

Travelling with a military convoy was not an experience he'd want to duplicate. At least the send-off had been nice, even with the threat of a detailed report hanging over his head. Mustang and Hawkeye had been the ones to send him off and had taken him aside from the military men and their associates to check that he had everything he needed. Which, okay, he'd jumped on a train to Central without his wallet _one time_ , it wasn't like he was going to cross the border without even a scrap of identification paper. 

"Stay safe, Edward," Hawkeye had said with a meaningful look.

"Yes, and do try not to offend anyone while you're representing us, we don't want a war on our hands simply because you couldn't remember your manners," Mustang had added on – unnecessarily – and completely deserved the right hook Ed would have given him if Hawkeye hadn't stared at him so disapprovingly when he'd drawn his fist back. 

All in all, it wasn't bad. Left him with a smile if anything. Which was ew, gross, because Mustang couldn't be anything other than a jerk in his head otherwise he'd have to undergo some serious world view alterations and he wasn't prepared for that, not yet at least. 

The desert didn't even bear mentioning, nevermind the nonstop complaining of the more office acclimated military men who _didn't even have any metal limbs, so they could shut the fu-_

It had been extremely difficult to avoid getting court-martialed during that trip. It wasn't all bad though, he got to see the construction for the train lines as they'd made their way through the sand, which was pretty cool. The gleaming metal rails were shiny reminders that he wouldn't have to deal with this impossible journey ever again. Well, not _ever_ again. He'd actually had to make that journey several times afterwards. But he hadn't anticipated how long the construction would actually take. 

Xing was kind of awesome, still was. For all the travelling that Edward had done in his youth and continued to do, he never realised just how small his world was until he left for Xing. Originally, he had imagined something akin to Liore, what with the copious amount of sand and stupidly hot weather. But it was far from it. 

The main city was a metropolis, rich in colour and with towering buildings unlike any he had seen before. In retrospect, he should have expected a fair amount of glass given that it was essentially  
melted sand but, damn, even if he had, he wasn't sure he could have ever imagined the great glass spires and multi-storied buildings constructed from the stuff. It was clear that some kind of alcahestry had to have been involved, something that had been left unexplored by Amestris, given the sheer impossibility of even considering planning for the constructions back home.

In contrast, the palace was far more traditional but no less extravagant. Stone made up the most of it, with great blocks upon blocks sanded down and transformed to produce a sprawling building spanning across acres. Water ran across from section to section in flowing streams atop the walls, pooling in fountains that adorned the areas without roofing. Lush greenery was commonplace, fed by the man-made rivers and thriving in the sunlight. His first thought upon walking across the first border was that he'd have to bring Al with him next time to name all of the plants because there was no doubt that he'd insisted on learning them all upon seeing them with Mei. 

Inside, the palace was a lot more conventional, with portraits of former royalty and important figures. Church like stained mosaics decorated the windows, casting the walkways in a smattering of pretty colours that drifted along his skin when he walked beneath them. Sand, of course, was everywhere, although it had been swept aside for the most part.

If he could remember correctly, there had been a young man with a sweeping brush eyeing the little sand trail his automail left behind as he had walked through the west wing, waiting to pounce as soon as he was out of sight. However, it was always hard to tell in Xing. People always openly stared at him. One cheeky kid had asked him if his friends ever lost him in the sand because they couldn't see him which made no sense at all since he still took to wearing bright reds where possible so he'd have to be buried to the neck to blend in. 

As always, Ling outshone all the extravagance of Xing. 

Literally. 

As in, Holy Shit, Don't You Think That's Enough Gold, Ling, You're Refracting So Much Light That It's Damaging My Eyes. 

Granted, it made an impression. 

The talk had begun with a game of intimidation that Ed's party had expected, apparently, because they kept emphasising what a formidable enemy Amestris would be as an opposition. Ling fought back casually, looking for all the world as though he was disinterested, so confident in his Empire's defences that he blew away the Amestrian representative's claims with the wave of his dismissive hands. 

Not once had he looked at Ed beyond the cursory glance over the group he'd given them at the beginning. And, given that Ed was translating for Ling because he refused to speak Amestrian for some reason (a power play, no doubt), it couldn't have been because he didn't realise he was there. 

In the end, an agreement was reached. Or at least, the foundations of an agreement. The only concrete rules set in place were that Amestris had been granted permission to extend the train line beyond the border (Ling 'forgave' Amestris for 'accidentally' passing the border already since it was hard to tell where the invisible lines were drawn in the desert) on the condition that… well, there were a whole bunch of conditions at the time and Ed could hardly remember them the following night, nevermind now. 

As the meeting had come to a close, he could remember feeling disheartened that Ling had made no mention of his presence. Only for those feelings to be washed away as he asked for Ed to stay behind. Ignorant to Ed's ties to the Emperor, the Amestrian soldiers gave him worried looks as they were escorted out of the hall. Ed had just shrugged in response and that had only made their frowns deepen. 

Ling had then dismissed his staff which had made them significantly more worried looking than the soldiers had been, but they acquiesced nonetheless because he was the damn Emperor. Truth, what Ed would give for his banged-up pocket watch to give him nearly as much power. Only for making people go away though, Ed was not about to take responsibility for that kind of power over a nation.  
"I take it you received my letter?" Ling had said with a smile as he shrugged off his gold and was left with the more tasteful glints of shine he recognised from their meeting in Xerxes. 

And, well, shit, Ed _hadn't_ received the letter and didn't know what the hell to expect because the question he'd asked had been a heavy one. 

"Ah… well, uh, I don't think you had the middle of the desert down as my address so that'd be a no."

For a moment, a cloudy expression had overtaken Ling's features and he had the sinking feeling that he'd just ruined the budding alliance between their two countries.

But then he'd sighed and pouted overtly. "I'm very tempted to send you packing back home so you can read the letter that I put time and effort into writing."

"Wait, shit, you didn't write paragraphs did you?"

"Nope," he said, popping the p. "It was one word."

"I really don't see what's the big deal then."

"It was very prettily written. I used my favourite ink and wrote it with a flourish."

"Still only one word."

"Edward."

"I'm just saying."

"Oh my-" Ling stopped. At some point over the course of the conversation, he'd crossed the space between them so that there were only inches between their faces, Ed's head tilted upwards and Ling looking down into his eyes. "Hmm… I'm not going to repeat myself when there's a perfectly nice letter waiting for you at your temporary home-

"Temporary? I've lived there almost my entire lif-"

"So why don't I show you?"

And time stopped. Logically, Ed knew that time hadn't literally stopped, but, in retrospect, that memory had been encased in resin, frozen in sentimentality. It had been, after all, Ed's first kiss. 

So. That had been the answer. Quite succinct. Quite clear. And when Ed had returned from Xing after a week of very little political negotiation, he'd found the same answer in writing in the mailbox. 

Time had passed since then and the fire had been lit and was still merrily roaring with no shortage of fuel. Should he pick something from the flames instead, then? A tasteful recollection of Ling's first real visit and stay at Resembool? Or a call out to all the times he'd managed to clear out the fridge within minutes of his stay? Or-

"Ed, we need to get going soon."

Slapping his hands down to cover the letter he'd been writing, Ed hunched himself further over his desk and turned his head to see Al in his bedroom doorway. His eyebrows were raised but his eyes were flat, unimpressed. "Wow."

"Wow what? There is nothing to wow at here." Ed said, very casually, as he subtly propped his elbow ahead of the letter and rested his head in his palm.

"What are you hiding? It's got to be embarrassing if you're acting like this, I want to see it," Al smiled and it was all mischief and no remorse. 

"I'm not hiding anything," Ed said with his own smile, confident and proud. 

"Sure you are," Al moved closer and suddenly Ed's chair was falling backwards. Desperately, his arms scrambled for some sort of support but found none and had to move to protect his head as he made impact with the floor. Meanwhile, Al had taken his letter hostage and held it close to his chest. In his other hand was a cane that hadn't been there before. Ed was quick to deduce that that had been the perpetrator of his sudden and literal downfall.

"Give it back, Al!" He shouted and jumped to his feet, but Al simply held it high above. No matter, Ed went to clap and create himself a ledge but stopped when Al spoke. 

"I'm not gonna read it, I just want to know what it is," he said and gave it back. Which shouldn't have surprised Ed to be honest, this was Al, after all. He didn't need the leverage, he just needed to give Ed _that_ look. Yup. That one. With the eyes. And the face. And. Well actually, that was just Al's face. Still.

Letting go of the air in his lungs in a small defeated sigh, Ed spoke, "it's a letter… for Ling."

"But we're headed for Xing today, you'll see him before that letter will be able to make it."

"Yeah, I know, I'm gonna give it to him myself so you don't need to worry."

"... then why write a letter? Why not just tell him?"

"Its… uh… well, the anniversary? I think… it's a gift… sort of."

"Sort of?"

"Well, what's there to get an Emperor who already has everything? I can't just use alchemy every year- it's cheap, it's not difficult at all… there's no effort…" he looked away, "so I wrote something, I wrote about how we are, how we came to be and just… how much he, uh, means to me? I think."

For a long moment, there was only silence. When Ed looked up, he found Al's eyes glistening and he couldn't decide if he looked like he was about to cry or burst out in laughter. "Brother  
… I had no idea you had it in you… it's so thoughtful and adorable!"

"Had what in me?! Why do you sound so surprised? I can be thoughtful! And adora- wait no, not adora- ugh - Al!" He shouted but Al was already down the corridor, calling back for him to get ready because the train would be arriving at the station soon. 

Ed threw his hands in the air in frustration before sighing. It was true that the train was due soon, he noted as he looked towards the wall clock, but trains to Xing were pretty regular in the winter, what with all of the holiday traffic. He had time. 

Giving his letter a once over, he took in the sprawling words detailing their journey and frowned contemplatively and took his pen back into his hand. 

_I think, what I mean to say is, I haven’t got a clue as to how we came to be, but damn am I glad we did._

Love, Ed

__

**Author's Note:**

> There it is! Also posted on my [tumblr](https://colerate.tumblr.com/)  
> I know I had some things to say about this... but I forgot. 
> 
> Feel free to let me know what you guys think in the comments!


End file.
